


As Long as No One Knows

by liaskywalkerl



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Baby Ani, Comfort, Hurt, I think it is angsty idk, Obi-Wan Kenobi - Freeform, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Shmi Skywalker - Freeform, Shmi is wise, Young Anakin Skywalker, anakin skywalker - Freeform, and she is done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25919488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liaskywalkerl/pseuds/liaskywalkerl
Summary: One of a slave’s greatest attributes was silence, and Shmi knew.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	As Long as No One Knows

**Author's Note:**

> If I make a mistake in English, please don’t correct me I have no respect for this language / hj
> 
> I hope you will enjoy!

One of a slave’s greatest attributes was silence, and Shmi knew.

She had to be quiet, do her job as told, do not complain, do not fight back. An extra hour of work hurt less than an extra hour of punishment.

Shmi used her best efforts to pass this knowledge down to Anakin. She explained him innumerable times that pride and stubbornness would not take him anywhere except a path of pain. Anakin was not the kind of child who would accept an insult and go home; he would always fight back in a way or another, which would sometimes lead to purple and red marks appear on his tanned skin. Whenever her eyes would glimpse the injuries, the woman would feel sick to her stomach, but always felt as if there was nothing she could do.

The dark thoughts that she wasn't a good mother to her son kept her awake at night. Shmi was well aware Anakin deserved more than she could ever give him, and guilt burned her from the inside out, her mind whispering to her that his condition was her fault and her fault only. She was responsible for putting a child— her child— in slavery.

One evening Anakin returned home with a slash on his forehead, above his eyebrow. His rough, dirty beige clothing was speckled with blood, which was almost enough to make Shmi faint on the spot.

Instead, she quickly ran to her son, leaving whatever device she was working on behind, scooping the child from the floor with ease, sitting him on the empty dinner table.

Since he was a small baby, Anakin rarely ever cried when he was injured, and this deeply disturbed Shmi. The thought that, maybe, he was so used with pain that it didn't bother him anymore haunted her. It made her body cold, and her heart ache; suffering and agony should never be something so mundane in a child’s life.

—Watto made me fix an NH-7 flight control avionics package,— the boy started, giving an almost unnoticeable flinch when Shmi gently pulled his hair back so she could have access to the wound — and he had some friends in the shop, — he stopped scrunching his nose, thinking, and immediately regretted, feeling the sharp pain in his head— well, not real friends, really. They were mad Watto was not giving them the money he lost on a bet. They started to fight, and I was on the counter. They pushed me, and when I fell, the package hit me on my face.

Shmi gave him a saddening sigh when she noticed her son’s pout. His chin started to quiver, and his eyes filled with tears.

— I passed out, I think.— he continued—But no one cared. I think more people came by, but _no one cared!_ I could hear them, but I couldn’t see or move, and no even said a thing! — Anakin’s hands closed in two tight fists, and his body shook in anger.

—Annie, Annie- listen to me.— Shmi said, after putting a bacta patch on his forehead. — _Listen_ to me.— she held his face gently — Breathe. — she said slowly — We _cannot_ afford to be angry.

The seven-year-old closed his eyes tightly.

—It isn’t fair...

— I didn’t said it was.— she put Anakin on the ground — Come with me.

—Where? Is almost dark, mom. — the boy frowned. She never let him go outside at this time.

—I know.— Shmi answered, wrapping a well worn coffee-brown scarf around her shoulders. She knew the temperature used to drop in the night. — But we are going out.

Anakin nodded, grabbing another scarf for himself. It was his mother’s, so the material dragged on the floor as he walked.

They went to the back of their house, where Anakin’s small project, an unfinished podracer hidden away. A first, the child thought his mother was going to do something with it. But, instead, she bent over and picked a big box.

— What’s this? — Anakin asked, standing on his tippy toes.

Shmi lowered the box, and he was able to see a dozen of clay tea-sets. Most were broken and cracked, practically useless. She was planning to fix them and sell the pieces in the market, but, realised they were broken beyond repair.

— You’ll see.— she gave him one of her wise smiles.

Anakin kept close to her, no matter how cold it got in the nights, Shmi always provided him with the comfort and warmth he so desperately needed.

Shmi took him to an abandoned house in the outskirts of Mos Espa, a spot she knew hers and Anakin’s detonator wouldn’t implode and kill both.

She placed the box on the floor, grabbing a small teacup and tossing up in the air, catching it again.

— What are you doing?— Anakin asked, confusion splashed across his face.

Shmi didn't say anything. Instead, she threw the clay cup on the adobe house’s wall, smashing it to bits.

Anakin gasped surprised:

—What?!

—Grab a cup, Annie.— she took another cracked teacup from the box — You need to do something about this anger of yours.

Shmi let a muffled scream escape her lips as she threw the cup on the wall with all her might, once again turning it into pieces.

Anakin laughed, quickly moving to the box and grabbing one teacup in each of hid small hands, and did exactly what his mother did before.

— Pretend the wall is Watto. —Shmi said, and the statement surprised Anakin a little. Of course, he knew his mother disliked the Toydorian, but not this much. She looked angry, enraged.—Or Gardulla...— the woman smashed another teapot on the wall — or the Zygerrians. 

Anakin did as she said.

It felt good.

It felt _right._

He was tired of putting all the anger aside, of being afraid of showing his emotions, his displeasure, sadness and ire for being a slave.

He smashed another one.

And he did it again,

and again,

And again.

Something about the anger he was feeling was comforting; it made Anakin feel secure, more significant, as if he could do anything he wanted right now. It made him think he could end them all- Watto, Gardulla, the Zygerrians. All the slavers.

And he did not felt bad about it.

— To feel anger is to be human, Annie.— his mother said — There is no shame in being angry, especially for people like us. As long as no one knows.

When he reached to grab another one, he realised the box was empty.

— We need to go, Annie.— Shmi gently grabbed him by the hand — We are already abusing our luck being outside so late.

It was as if all his previous emotions we're washed away, just like that. His mother has reminded him that, after all, he was still just a slave. Slaves couldn't be roaming so late in the night- especially to have fun.

They quickly and unnoticed went back to their house in the slave quarters section, relieved no one had caught them.

Shmi heated a small jar of blue milk and, since Anakin was upset for his bad day, she added the last few sugar-coated crackers she used to keep hidden in a particular spot she knew her son wouldn't find- for they weren't any cheap or easy to find. She would only give them to Anakin in situations such as this.

The boy’s blue eyes immediately lightened up when he saw the plate of the sweet placed before him.

She sat beside him and carefully ran her fingers in his golden hair as he dipped the biscuits in the warm milk and ate them in silence.

— I know...— she started in a soothing voice — that the anger you had this night might felt good.

Anakin nodded:

— _It did-_

—Don’t speak with your mouth full, Anakin. — she smiled, but then continued — You must not let this anger be ordinary. It must not be an everyday thing- it is dangerous. You know this. I don't know what I would if you...

Her words were gone quickly. Just the thought of what might happen to her son if he acted recklessly not only to Watto, but anyone else in Mos Espa, put Shmi on edge. It wasn’t exactly the safest place for a child, let alone a child with a history of not knowing how to deal with anger.

Anakin sighed.

— I’m sorry, mom. — he said in a small, sad voice— I will try to be more careful, I promise.

Shmi smiled, playfully bopping his nose covered with freckles with her finger.

— I trust you. — she kissed his cheek — I would be furious if something serious happened to you. 

Anakin laughed:

—Watto better watch out, then!

Shmi let herself laugh, too.

—But remember, Annie.— she said more serious this time — You need to control your anger.

—You need to control your anger, Padawan. — Obi-Wan told him this for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

— I try, master. — Anakin replied, sitting on the meditation mat.

—Do or do-

—‘Or do not. There is no try.’— Anakin finished, sighing — Yoda told me this before.

—Why didn’t you listened, then?— his master raised an eyebrow.

The seventeen-year-old rolled his eyes.

_To feel anger is to be human, Annie._ —the words rang in his ears— _There is no shame in being angry, especially for people like us. As long as no one knows._

— I do listen, master. I will control my anger.

_As long as no one knows._


End file.
